


Sea of Stars

by Murasaki99



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Fallen Empire, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Black Gang, Finalizer, Gen, Multi, Other, ferlies, home brew, ship crew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-05-31 02:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6452002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Murasaki99/pseuds/Murasaki99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Don’t murder the crew in my sight, Lord Ren, everyone has a duty to perform and we can’t replace them that easily.” General Hux had been quite specific.  Did that mean he could do as he pleased out of the General’s line of vision?</p><p>Every ship, from the age of sail onward, has had a "black gang"; those hardy souls who keep the ship running through daily wear and tear as well as keeping the old bucket sailing through battle.  As on the sea, so it is among the stars, for both the ships of the New Republic and First Order.  Aboard the <i>Finalizer</i>, the crew of the black gang have been summoned often to repair mysterious damage to equipment used by the crew "above decks".  Being somewhat superstitious, they are starting to wonder if the "hidden people" are having some fun at their expense.  The answer may be entirely more perilous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

## Boredom

Pacing the corridors of the ship in a grand loop around the fighter bays had done little to take the edge off Kylo Ren’s temper.  Cutting pieces out of the port tracking sub-console had helped ease his annoyance a little, but awareness that the crew had begun calling up the chain of command about his rampage had gotten him to desist, at least for a time.  Supreme Leader Snoke had been full of dire warnings about something soon to happen that would tilt the balance of power in the galaxy.   


Unfortunately, the warnings had been maddeningly vague and devoid of any actions Ren could immediately take to set that balance moving in their favor.  Boredom did not sit well on his shoulders and meditation felt singularly unattractive this day.  He wanted something to fight, but the officers and crew of the _Finalizer_ were far too savvy to stand still long enough to offer a decent target.  Even the ship’s droids had vanished.   


General Hux, his supposed co-commander, had warned him privately not that long ago: “Don’t murder the crew in my sight, Lord Ren, everyone has a duty to perform and we can’t replace them that easily.” Hux had plowed on for some time about the hierarchy of the First Order and the time and credits that went into training and conditioning the crew.  Ren had tuned him out at that point, but the phrase “in my sight” had stuck in his mind like a challenge.  Did that mean he could do as he pleased out of the General’s line of vision?  He smiled crookedly under his masked helm at the memory.  

## Black Gang

“How soon will it be completed?”  The lieutenant hovered over the three members of the “black gang” clustered around a large system console.  The console was gouged, smoking, and emitting random sparks which set fabric smoldering on contact.  Brushing at a burning bit on his sleeve, the officer backed away a step.  One of the repair team was already halfway into the console, lying on the deck with his head and shoulders inside an access panel.  

“Given we don’t find anything inside that requires back-ordering…”  The repair chief poked at numbers on her wrist-mounted datapad’s holodisplay.  

“Three memory-cores, one hub, looks like a couple number-4 wiring harnesses…” the tech inside the console spoke the tally of damaged parts in a sing-song voice.  “Bracing struts.  Differential calculator, shit that’s still molten!”  Sounds of frantic slapping as he put out the fire on his sleeve.  “We’ll ‘ave to run diagnostics once we’ve got the main components swapped out, Chief.”  Sliding out of the opening, he patted the console.  “This thing has been properly slagged, it has.” 

“Putting in the requisitions now, said the third member of the team, tapping at his own datapad, “I’m adding in the external display matrices and console coverings.”

“…I’m thinking two hours, three max, unless we’re short on parts, sir.” Pie watched her display for a moment, nodded at the results.  “We’ve got all we need in stock, the droid’ll have it up to us in five minutes, so I’ll go with my original estimate of two hours.”  

“That will do nicely,” said the lieutenant, producing a long exhalation as if he’d been holding his breath.  He looked around the room, empty save for themselves, paused and scanned the area again, then peered out the open door into the hallway, which was remarkably quiet for this area of the _Finalizer_ , located as it was near the one of the fighter bays.   “I’ll… I’ll just leave you to it.”  He stepped to the doorway and subjected the corridor to careful scrutiny. 

“Good enough, sir,” said the chief, plucking a multitool from her belt, “I’ll update the status when we’re done and you’ll get an alert.”  

“Excellent.”  Skirting the gaping access manhole in the deck, the lieutenant exited the chamber, boot heels clicking double-time on the hard deck, leaving the black gang alone with their smoldering patient. 

“Nervous sort,” said Seyo, sliding back into the open panel of the console and beginning to strip out the damaged components.  

“Yes, strange,” said their striker Conal, still working at updating the listing of needed parts.  “You’d think we was in combat or something.”  He looked up at the woman who was running her hands over the surface of the console.  “What d’you think, Chief?”

“Maybe we were.” She nodded at the upper surface of the console, scored with deep melted grooves.  “This isn’t blaster fire, but _something_ happened in here.” She scratched her head, “maybe a berserk welding droid?  The damage is from melting.” 

“Well, there’s no blood on the deck, so nobody died.”  Conal looked cheerful, kneeling beside Seyo to pass him tools and components.  “Supply droid should be up soon with the parts.”  

“Good, then let’s get to it, the sooner we’re done and below, the better I’ll feel.”  

“Aye-aye,” the two men responded in unison.  

Their chief glanced through the open doorway, but there still was no sign of movement from the corridor.  Not a crewer or trooper had passed their way since their arrival.  Shrugging, she began to strip away the damaged areas on the upper surface of the wrecked console and soon the three of them were working in an intricate dance of repair, passing components and tools back and forth with scarcely a word between them.  The supply droid came and went with parts, carrying away the damaged pieces for recycling as the minutes ticked away. 

“Almost there, Chief,” Seyo slid out from the depths of the console, stood and stretched.  “Got a set o’leads that need capping, that’s all.”

“I’ve got the new top panel mounted,” Pie indicated the console’s outer work surface, “Stick on the caps for the leads an’ we’ll be shipshape.”  She nodded at Conal.  “Diagnostics check out?”

“Running them now, looking good so far.”  He leaned against the console, eyes on his datapad’s readouts.  

Pie took a moment to stretch her back as well, gathering loose tools, plastic shreds, metal bits, and ragged ends of wire and stowing them in the many pouches in her coveralls. As she clipped the multitool to her belt, the sharp scent of something like ozone prickled her nostrils.   _When had that started?_ She turned around slowly to scan the room for any hidden smoldering electrical items.  The air felt charged, as if somewhere nearby a large capacitor had built up an excess of energy.  Rubbing her forearms did nothing to settle the small hairs on them, which were now standing up.  Looking into the corridor, she saw a dark human silhouette shrouded entirely in black, features indistinguishable thanks to the backlight cast by the bright hallway glows behind him.   He was motionless, facing into the chamber in which they were working.  _How long has **he** been there?_  Pie felt the hairs on the back of her neck join those on her arms at attention. 

“Time to scarper, lads,” she said firmly, “Seyo, close the hatch soon’s we’re though.”  The black gang were not typically seen “above decks” unless for certain types of repair, and it was far above their pay grade to have to deal with upper officers.  Most of the regular crew were scarcely aware of their existence, sequestered below as they were.  

“Aye, Chief.”  Seyo grabbed his gear bag and slid down through the open manway.  The chief moved at once to stand by the opening.  

“Come along Conal.” 

Her young striker was staring at the figure in the hall, his mouth open in surprise, looking as if someone had spiked his boots to the deck.  

“Who’s that, Chief?  ‘E don’t look like an officer…”

The sensation of a capacitor about to discharge scraping her nerves, the chief pulled her striker the short distance to the manhole.  Feeling as if she were wading through glue, Pie seized him around the middle, swept his legs out from under him and stepped into space, dropping like a stone and pulling her junior crewman down through the opening with her.  Conal yelped in pain as his elbows hit the rim of the manhole. They fell for some distance before both of them managed to put out feet and arms enough to arrest their fall.  Above them the cover of the portal hissed firmly shut, sealing them below and whatever-that-was above.  

“What’d ye do that fer, Chief?!” Conal rubbed his elbows, his face screwed up with pain.  “I think I’ve busted my elbow!”

“Better your elbow than your neck,” said Pie with a snort.  “Come on, hop it lads, back to the Hub with us, we’ll report to the Master Chief.”  

“I was gonna go on down.” Conal muttered as he followed his seniors along a heavy line of conduit that served as a walkway between decks.  “But that fellow in the hall… it felt like I couldn’t move.” 

“Chief is right, there’s folks on these ships we’ve got no business looking at, never mind talking to,” said Seyo as they ducked under a water pipe.  “You’re young, you’ve got no idea what can happen, that’s why we usually stay below – some o’those high muckety-mucks could shoot you if they’re having an off day an’ no one would say anything.” He dropped his voice to a whisper.  “I’ve heard rumors they’ve got one o’ Them aboard.”

“Huh,” said Conal, digesting this bit of information. “But… we wasn’t done with that console!” 

“I know,” said the chief, rubbing her left arm.  The small hairs had finally relaxed and the sensation of imminent electrocution had faded.  “I’ll go back when the coast is clear and finish up – the console is working at least, so it’s not as bad as you think.”  

“By yourself?” Seyo frowned in the gloom at Pie.  

“Yes, it’s all of a minute’s work to stick on the caps and close the panel, I’ll nip up, finish, and be gone before anyone’s the wiser.”  

“You be careful, then.” 

“When am I not?”  The group had reached a “workstation”, a small flat space tucked into an ell between massive conduits, equipped with a compact console, workbench, and a seat bolted onto an interior beam.  A cupboard above the workbench contained food packs and a small caf maker.  Pie grinned at Seyo and waved the two men on.  “I haven’t lived this long by being stupid.  I’ll sit here at the bench for a bit and finish the report for this repair, then check and see if I can’t close out the ticket.”

## Down the Hatch

Ren’s fast-paced stride had taken him back to the ready-room where he had exercised himself earlier by cutting grooves into the wall console.  He slowed his pace as he became aware the room hosted not one, but three people.  Using the Force to deaden sound was a simple matter, enabling him to approach in utter silence.  

“Well, that’s the outer skin replaced, looks almost brand-new.”  The speaker wore a set of hash-marks on her sleeve that denoted higher rank than her fellows.  Her face and gray coverall were heavily besmirched with a combination of carbon-soot and some sort of bluish compound.  Her short-cropped hair was almost entirely white except for a patch of black in front that stuck out from her forehead like rumpled feathers. Two other equally-filthy workers knelt by the console, fastening up the maintenance panels and collecting their gear.  “Wish I knew what caused so much damage.”

“Ferlies, Chief,” said one of the men with a chuckle.  “You know, the little people.”  He held his hand a foot above the deck.  

“Ferlies are supposed to be helpful!” protested the second man, who sounded much younger than the others.

The chief chuckled.  “Only if you pay ‘em right, that’s what the old folks say in their stories.  If you offend ‘em, they can get destructive.”  She stared pensively at the console.  “Didn’t think they’d be melting our gear, though.”  She began to methodically gather up and stow stray bits of machinery, then stretched her arms.  Turning around slowly she seemed to be scanning for something lost, rubbing vigorously at her arms as if chilled.  Ren had been debating internally which of the group might offer some amusement, when the chief raised her gaze and saw him.  Her visual notice was immediately followed by a clear spike of concern for her men.  

“Time to scarper, lads.  Seyo, close the hatch soon’s we’re though.”  At once the man so addressed scooted across the room and vanished down an opening in the deck.  

 _I didn’t know they had access ports hidden in the floor like that_ , thought Ren, reaching out with the Force at the same moment to grasp at the two remaining techs.  The younger man stuck in place as if rooted, but the woman, their chief, somehow pushed through his Force-grip, grabbed the last man around the waist, and plunged them both through the hole in the floor, gravity breaking the relatively light spell. Ren ran into the room, but the hatchway to the portal hissed firmly shut before he could reach it.  He could feel more than hear the repair techs falling, echoes of pain as they hit piping, then their muffled voices as they recovered and ran quickly into the depths of the ship.  He struck his fist against the portal, but it held firm.  There had to be hatch-releases somewhere below him, but the techs had moved too quickly for him to mark the position of their hands on the controls.  He snorted, debating using his lightsaber to cut through the portal.  

_But… we wasn’t done with that console!_

That echo of a strong, unguarded thought provided a distraction.  _So, they’ll be back to finish their work.  Good enough, I can afford to wait, there’s little else to do._   Having made the decision, he searched out a spot for his ambuscade. 

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ren finally gets below decks to follow the elusive black gang. They are worried about incurring the ire of the "ferlies" or "hidden people" of the ship, much to Ren's amusement.

## Ferlies

Two hours later, Pie checked her datapad and was relieved to find no inquiry from the nervous lieutenant who had requisitioned the repairs.With sure-footed ease, striding over pipes and conduits, she retraced her route to the access way under the room where her team had been working.Climbing the open ladder she paused under the manhole port, made herself very still, and listened for a long minute.Not a sound came from above, only the distant rumble of the TIE fighters warming up for routine patrol.

“Right then,” she murmured and tapped the code into the keypad to open the access port. Moving as quietly as possible, she pulled herself up and into the chamber – the console was dark, but she was relieved to see it had not been damaged by the strange man who had happened upon them.  


The lower access panel was still open, the cover left tidily nearby by Seyo.Pie crouched by the opening, fished inside and quickly found the set of uncapped wires.From a pocket on her coveralls she produced several self-crimping caps and lined them up along the top of the console.One by one, working by feel, she capped the wires, nodding as they sealed into place.“Last one.” she reached for it and a glancing touch from her fingers sent the small object toppling onto the deck.“Oh no, come now!”Pie made a grab for it and only succeeded in propelling it toward the open manhole.

“Uff, y’ little…!” She dove for the bouncing cap, sliding along the deck a moment too late as it made a final taunting skip and fell over the lip of the manhole.Fell, and then stopped to float up gracefully and hover on a level with her face.

“Merciful Marah we DO have ferlies!”Feeling a little dizzy with astonishment, Pie reached out and plucked the cap from the air.   


“Ah… thank you,” she said, recalling the tales that spoke of the old powers appreciating politeness.The cap felt perfectly normal in her hand.Taking a deep breath she returned to the console, seated the cap, replaced the access panel, and powered up the machine.It hummed to life and a quick check proved it fully functional.  


Walking a little shakily to the manhole she began to climb down, paused and said softly to the empty room.“I’ll leave thee a proper offering, if ye want it.”Once below the deck, Pie touched the keypad to close the portal and set off for the Hub, a 15-minute hike from her current position, but she was glad of the jog, her mind trying to make sense of what she had seen.

## Below Decks

Ren waited for the repair chief to move out of immediate earshot, crouched by the portal, and felt with the Force through the deck for the keypad she had unknowingly marked for him.A moment later it hissed open and he swung down through the opening, gripping the rungs of the ladder.It was extremely dark below, but his senses expanded into the unexplored space and warned him of the deep void below the tangles of wide conduit.He touched the keypad and closed the portal.   


A few moments later Lieutenant Tarsk entered the room above, trailing a palpable sense of relief when he saw the completed repairs.Ren thought a moment about Tarsk’s probable reaction were he to suddenly pop up into the chamber like a monster in a tridee drama, but the repair chief was rapidly drawing away from his position and moving into what felt like a proper labyrinth of narrow passageways, so he abandoned the thought of immediate gratification, slid down the ladder to the broad conduit, and loped off silently in pursuit. _They work down here all the time?How many?_

Beside the chief, he could feel the presence of others ahead, and more off in the distance to either side as he followed his quarry toward the wider midsection of the ship. They felt different from the regular crew of the _Finalizer_ , more relaxed, less mentally tight, their thoughts dwelling on the mundane tasks of repair and maintenance with little time spent obsessing over order, rank, and military politics.

While his long legs gave him a speed advantage over the chief – Pie they had called her – his height was a handicap and in this space crowded with piping, cables, and large objects of unknown purpose he found himself constantly ducking to avoid bashing his head.After ten minutes of steady travel, he could sense Pie ahead, close enough he was in danger of being spotted had she thought to look behind. Small integral glows in beams and conduits gave enough wan light to banish the deep concealing shadows. This zone of space between decks and compartments was quite a bit more “open” vertically with layers of conduit above and below Ren’s position.It was the work of a moment to Force-leap upward and take a parallel course to the chief ten meters above her head.

For her part Pie was walking at a steady pace, hands out from her sides, fingers spread, and _singing_?Yes, definitely humming and occasionally softly singing snatches of verse as she moved.Now and again she stopped to click her tongue against her teeth, listening intently, her mind busily taking mental notes.

_Yes, that’s stopped dripping, good.That breeze feels like a leaking air-handler, I’ll get Tanner to check it on his rounds.This spot is getting slick._ She paused to fish a little container of something from a pocket with which she sprayed the narrow walkway. _That should help.Bloody huge ship – it’d be like falling into the Void itself if one of the juniors came off here._ Her mind shied away from the thought of having to plumb the depths again in grim search for a body. _We’re getting used to it – she’s a fine ship, really, I just don’t want to buy her with blood, Marah knows we’ll shed enough of that when the time for battle comes_.

Pie inhaled and sang another bit of verse as she moved on.

>   
> In yon green-wood there is a waik  
> And in that waik there is a wene,  
> And in that wene there is a maike,  
> That neither has flesh, blood, nor bane;  
> And down in yon green-wood he walks his lane. [1]  
> 

The form and language was so archaic, many of the words had lost their meanings, perhaps predating Empire and Republic alike. The words did not matter as much as they put Pie into a very calm state of mind.Abruptly she stopped and clicked again, sharply, head tilted up, made a half-turn, and repeated this odd procedure.

_Echolocation…?You should’ve known you fool, how else can she navigate in this murk without the Force?_ Realizing Pie could likely hear the reflections caused by his body, Ren silently dropped to the conduit serving as his pathway and made himself as much part of the piping as he could.

Just in time as he sensed Pie looking upward and scanning the conduit with a frown.

“I know I heard _something_ ”, she muttered, clicked again, shook her head.“Ahh, I bet it’s a mynock and the wretched thing has flown off for now – probably heading for the cables on the aux generators amidships.”She exhaled a deep sigh.“There’s a task we’ll have to do soon and no mistake or we’ll be overrun.”

She perked up as her narrow pathway opened up into a larger space, which looked like nothing more than a spacer town complete with stacks of little buildings attached to the interior bulkheads.The buildings were composed almost entirely of the universal large standard shipping crates.The place was strung with lights and humming with activity.People moved with purpose around the area and Ren caught the scent of food cooking.Pie stepped into the light and grinned.   


“Ahoy, I’m home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] The poem is a very short excerpt from _Kilmeny_ by James Hogg, 1770–1835, 1919. From **The Oxford Book of English Verse** : 1250–1900. Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. http://www.bartleby.com/101/514.html
> 
> Definitions: waik] a row of deep damp grass. wene] whin, a furze-bush. maike] a mate, match, equal. his lane] alone, by himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ren amuses himself by infiltrating the between-decks home of the black gang and tries "a drop of the pure" offered up by Chief Pie. Ren doesn't drink, and starting with an unknown home-brew may not have been terribly wise.

## A Drop of the Pure

 “Here ye are!  The lads were starting to fear you’d been taken by the Powers,” an older man, strong and grizzled, waved her over to his workstation.  

“Not yet, Master Chief,” her voice was light.  “Worksheets updated?  I need to add a few items.”  

“Help yerself,” he stepped over and allowed Pie to type away at the keypad.  “Find more work?”

“Yes, plus whatever the folks above have going on – been a lot of odd breakage lately from the reports.”  

“So I hear, they not maintaining their droids?”

Pie shook her head.  “I don’t know – Seyo was blaming the ferlies, but I’m more inclined to think they’re helpful than not.” She briefly told her senior officer of her experience with the floating cap.  

“Well, if that don’t beat all,” he said, running a hand through his very short hair.  “You’re more likely to have the hidden folk aboard the really old ships than a new one like Finalizer.” 

“I know,” Pie nodded, “but still, I said I’d put out an offering in gratitude for the help.”

“Better offer the good stuff then, I’ve a spare bottle if y’need it.”

“Thank you, I think I’ve enough of my own for tonight – there’s another thing to check, the state of the brewing before the new crew arrives.”

“I’ll check with Selm and Arde, last I’ve heard it was going very well.  This ship has acres of unused space for farming.”  The Master Chief looked over Pie’s shoulder at the console display.  “We aren’t getting a crowd of new crew anytime soon; we’ve got some potentials coming onboard from _Shirzad_ station, a few more experienced transfers coming in from _Frostmorn_ , but not as many as you’d think.” 

“So we won’t be having a big khalee ‘till we get them all onboard?”

“Exactly,” he nodded.  “We’ll have a smaller set of welcomes for them and save the big party for Savvyn.”  

“Big or small, a party is always good.”  Pie saluted the senior chief crisply.  “I’m off for mess and cycle-break, let me know when the new crew come aboard and I’ll give ‘em the tour.” 

“They’ll be drifting in as they can, I’ll let y’know as they turn up, or they may just show up on your watch, depending on how lost they get.”

“Aye, we’ll get them sorted.”  Pie walked away from the terminal toward a nearly circular grouping of container-buildings sheltering the communal mess hall.  

While Pie acquired her meal and moved to a nearby spot ringed with low seating and tables, Ren worked his way over the network of supports above.  He was more than a little surprised to find the shipping crates had been attached up the interior structure of the ship, stacking in such a way as to offer an easy stairway for the nimble.  

Unlike the crates at what he thought of as “ground level”, which had been formed into offices, mess hall, and other communal spaces, these crates were dwellings, many customized to the tastes of their inhabitants with paint.  Windows had been carefully cut into the walls of the crates and curtains added.  _It’s like Lowtown Nar Shaddaa_ , thought Ren, _only much cleaner._   At the first level, most showed signs of being actively occupied, but as he moved higher, more and more of the little dwellings proved to be empty and un-customized.  

His silent circuit of the Hub completed, he did a quick calculation.  Assuming the black gang followed the standard of three working-shifts per cycle, which meant approximately 20-25% of the crew were away working at any one time, there were in all 200 people here in a space that should have hosted 500 or more.  _They spoke of adding new crew, transfers from other ships.  Why are they so few?_   He looked below at the small group who shared Pie’s time-shift, eating and quietly talking.  Several smaller forms ran out to join them, their excited voices echoing upward.  _Children?  They brought their families on board a warship?_   He scowled at the people below.  


“Pie!  Master Chief Ribu says you saw ferlies!”

“That’s NOT what he said! Get it right!”

“Momma says they’re not real.” 

“Ha-ha, no I didn’t actually see a ferlie, but I’ll tell you what I did see.” Pie gave them an accurate account of the floating end-cap.  

“So… what do they look like?” queried a small girl.

“I have no idea,” said Pie.  “I think nearly every culture in space has stories of some version, but each person telling the tale will give you a different description of ‘em.  Most of the stories say they don’t like to be seen by us mortals.” 

“We’re mortals?” the questioner was a somewhat older boy.

“Yes, Gen.  We’re born, we live for a time, die, and return from where we came.”  Pie’s hand described a slow circle in the air.  “That’s being mortal, tied to the cycle of time.” She thought a moment.  “The hidden people are not – they don’t age and they don’t die, unless they choose to, which means they’re immortal.  There are stories of them fighting wars and getting slain in battle.  I guess being able to live forever doesn’t necessarily mean it happens.” 

“Those don’t sound like the sort of ferlies on this ship,” said another boy.  

“No, probably not,” Pie smiled. “The stories my granddam told me said the ship-ferlies were smaller than humans and very shy, so you never saw them, but they could be helpful and didn’t mind a share of food and drink now and then.”  Pie stood.  “Which reminds me, I need to leave them something tonight as thanks.” 

“Tell us a story before you go!” The request was unanimous. 

“Not tonight, I’ve told you enough already – we’ll have time for a proper tale at tenday’s end.”  At that gentle dismissal, the children ran off to play among the ebb and flow of adults near the mess hall.  Pie walked halfway around the circle of the Hub and ascended a ramp that served to provide access to the residential levels for those without the ability to Force-jump.  

She climbed two more ramps and finally opened a door on one of the modified crates, lights coming to life as she entered.  Her shadow passed before the small curtained windows several times as she moved back and forth through the space.  Soon she emerged with something in her hands.  Stretching on her toes she placed her burden atop her home, then clambered up to kneel and set out the items she had chosen.  First a square of clean white cloth, then a small plate atop which she put a lump of something.  Beside the plate she settled a small glass into which she poured a measure of liquid from a dark bottle.  Still kneeling, she placed her palms together and gave a little bow over the arrangement, then carefully slid down, cleared everything else away, and reentered her home, closing the door firmly.  

 _She believes in – what?  Unseen mythical godlings?_   Ren smirked from his hidden vantage point.  _Better to fear the ones you **can** see, and your instincts were good this afternoon, to withdraw swiftly. _ 

Unraveling the little challenges of following the black gang had served to mitigate his earlier foul mood.  Too far away to see any detail on what the chief had put out as an offering to her “ferlies”, curiosity nibbled at him persistently.  The activity level around the Hub had fallen as this shift went off duty and the upper lights dimmed to offer an approximation of dusk.  Confident he had marked out the location of anyone still awake in the area, he worked his way down to Pie’s residence.  By the time he reached his goal, all was still inside the chamber.  The chief was lying in her bunk against the end wall of her little home.  

Ren placed a hand against that wall, inches away from her head.  Pie was sound asleep, but instead of the usual random bits of dreaming-memory that composed the bulk of most people’s pre-REM sleep, Ren found himself in the star-filled depths of space.  There were no signs of physical boundaries such as the viewports of a starship, instead, it was as if he embodied the ship itself and was experiencing the full range of view such a thing would have, were it alive and blessed with eyes.  The sensation was vertiginous and Ren pulled away and straightened up. 

_Well, that was… interesting._   Putting the memory into the back of his mind for later analysis, he caught the scent of food and something else.  A leap, soft as any predator, took him to the top of the dwelling to examine Pie’s offering. 

Atop a plate of real china sat half a loaf of bread.  From the shape, the size of the original loaf could be inferred and it seemed she had put the larger half on this plate. _This is an old custom, mother mentioned something about this long ago, in another lifetime._ Beside the bread was a small clear shot-glass filled with dark liquid.  Raising the glass to the dim lights above, Ren decided the stuff was probably green.  It smelled herbal and definitely alcoholic.  _This must be what they were discussing earlier, so it is something they all drink and prize given the effort they make to obtain it._  

Ren gave the bread a nibble.  It was chewy, earthy, and made him realize he hadn’t eaten anything since morning.  The bread soon gone, he contemplated the liquid in the glass.  Jedi did not indulge in anything that would dull the senses, and while no longer anything like a Jedi, he kept to a similar discipline.  Still, it seemed rude to throw it away.   


_What could it hurt?_ With an internal shrug he tossed the liquor down in one swallow, stifled a cough, replaced the glass on the napkin, and leaped upward 10 meters to make his way toward the section of unused container-dwellings above.  The drink filled his nostrils with the scent of herbs and burned its way slowly down to his stomach where it sat like a warm coal under his heart.  The edges of the beams over which he was walking seemed to soften.  

He climbed further and further up until he was into the higher reaches where all the little residences stood empty.  Selecting one, he triggered the simple latch and entered.  The chamber was devoid of personal items, but did have a bunk with a set of linens and blankets folded neatly at one end for the future resident.  At this moment, the warm coal in his midsection decided to crawl out into his veins and his perceptions expanded as well.  Ren suddenly found himself privy to every conversation and thought in the area.  

 _He’s still sick, we should try this.  Here Nimbee, you stack the dishes while I dry and don’t drop ‘em this time for the love o’Marah!  Short again this cycle, but the new crew should help…  Oh, I love it when you…!  Momm, make her quit it!_ The thoughts ran together in a constantly flowing stream of high/low emotion and everything in between, interspersed with snatches of music, procedures to repair a machine, engineering equations, sparks of raw sensation, bits of daydream and story.    


Clutching his head, fighting to shut it out, Ren sat down heavily on the bunk, breathing hard. Accustomed to having free run at will of other people’s minds, he had long ago perfected the art of barricading away the random noise generated by living beings who could not guard their thoughts.  Those barricades had been utterly breached. 

_What … what was IN that drink? I can’t_ …  He ground his knuckles into his eyes, then opened them wide and stared at a pair of softly glowing women who seemed to be standing inside his little chamber.  They spoke as if he wasn’t there, which really, he wasn’t.  

“Well, did you find them yet?”  The first woman was dressed in sober black, a short robe and cloak over dark armor on her legs and arms.  She was albino-pale, skin and hair alike, but her eyes glowed gold and her pretty face was calm and thoughtful.  A lightsaber hung from her belt.  _Those robes and insignia... that’s… an ancient Sith?_   Ren leaned forward, his discomfort forgotten as he took in the vision. Concentrating on it helped the rest of the howling chaos of thoughts recede into the background. 

The second woman was clad head to toe in pale armor chased with designs of silver.  Her dark hair was pulled back into a tidy bun and her face, while handsome, was set in a serious frown.  She likewise wore a lightsaber, and shook her head at her companion's query.  “No, I’m sure they’re off doing something totally IMPORTANT like contemplating some protoplasm crawling out of an ocean because in a million years it might be HELPFUL.”  She held out her hands and wiggled her fingers in a way that made Ren chuckle.  Her eyes shone like silver stars and he could feel her annoyance as clearly as he could smell the herbs on his own breath.  

“You don’t think they’ve cycled?” she added with a huff.  “It would be just like them.”

The pale woman shook her head.  “I don’t feel they’ve done that, we’ll find them, we must, before…” she blinked and looked at Ren.  Looked AT him.  Her brow furrowed.  

“What?” Asked the dark-haired knight.  Following the direction of her companion’s stare, she likewise seemed to bring Ren into focus.  “Oh, him.  What about it?” 

“No help there, not yet,” the pale Sith shrugged, turning away.

Her friend chuckled, “And here you’ve always been the pragmatic sort!  You didn’t turn down Her, with all her Jedi stupidity, AND despite what she carried inside.”

“I like to think I’ve gained some wisdom since then.”  The Sith’s mouth crooked in a wry smile as if she was remembering some painful jest.  “Come on, we’d best get to it. May the Force serve us well.”  With a graceful gesture to the dark-haired warrior, she walked through the wall and vanished like the vision she was.  

The knight lingered, gazing at Ren as if taking his measure.  He found her regard surprisingly uncomfortable, as if she could see right through him into all his dark corners, and yet he could not feel any intrusion at all.  “Hmph.  Yes.”  She nodded and growled.  “Later, you.”  She strode through the wall of the chamber and was gone.   

Ren lay back on the bunk and stared at the ceiling of his little room.  _I am going to think about this.  In a minute.  After everything quits spinning._  

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Pure" as such is a clan recipe, a jolly libation and cure-all handed down for generations. Imagine something like Akavit, Absinthe, and Chartreuse brewed with (probably mutated) herbs and other ingredients grown in starships and space stations.


	4. Welcome Aboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew of the black gang grows by one.

“Myyynnnok!  MYNOCK!”  The scream was ultrasonic, stabbing Ren through the eardrums and bolting him awake. With an effort of will, he kept from ricocheting against the walls and ceiling of his little abode as he reoriented himself and recalled the prior day’s events. 

The screams repeated then ceased as others responded to the alarm. 

“We’re here Yarel, what’s happened?” Pie’s voice carried clearly from below.  She had popped out of her cabin clad only in her underclothing, clutching a long double-bladed spear with two “wings” worked into the metal below the blades.  Several other adults in various stages of undress had likewise emerged, blinking in the light and apparently armed with whatever was easy to grab.  Ren could see a few old blasters, a stun-gun, several brooms, and a mop. At least the effects of the herbal liquor he had drunk last night had worn off, because he could once again easily tone down the thoughts of the crew.

“A mynock was sitting on the railing!  I put my hand right ON it!” the young girl waved her right hand as if trying to shake it off her wrist. She stood one level down from Pie’s position.

Pie scanned the area above the Hub.  “Did it bite you?”

“Nnnooo, but it was nasty!”

“Which way did it go, did you see?”

Yarel pointed.  “It flew aft, Chief, toward the midship generators.”

“Good work, Yarel, we’ll deal with it today.” Pie looked down at herself.  “As soon as I get dressed, that is.” Raising her voice a little, she said.  “Anyone up for a Mynock hunt assemble in the Circle in 15 minutes.  Belay any other non-essential tasks.”  Shouldering her weapon, she reentered her cabin.  The rest of the crew apparently took that as general advice, running off to dress, grab some quick food, and scrounge up their weapons in preparation for the hunt.

From inside his cabin, Ren felt for the thoughts of the officers of the First Order, General Hux, Captain Phasma,  Lieutenant Mitaka, and other officers.  All were busy with their preparations to transfer to Starkiller Base and while they had noticed Ren had been away for a day, no one was actively looking for him – indeed no one was the least inclined to search for him, which he found amusing. 

Ren considered for a minute.  Once Starkiller was fully-staffed things would move very quickly indeed, but until that point, in the absence of any intelligence or direct order from Snoke, he had little to do except look for trouble.  He wanted to know more about the black gang, and given what he had learned already, a simple plan presented itself. 

_A mynock hunt seems like just the thing to keep busy while I wait._   The decision made, it did not take long to “borrow” enough of the crew’s clothing to pass as one of them. Ren swapped out his helm and black outer armor for the crew's mundane gray coveralls, rolled his former gear up in his cloak, and stashed it in the small personal locker in the cabin he had claimed and set the lock.  That done, he emerged and looked over the railing at the growing group of people below.  Pie was handing out more of the strange pike-like weapons.

“Who else wants a vornspear?”  She asked the assembly, “Remember, we can’t use blasters unless they are locked on stun.  If we hull the ship, or any of the process feed lines, we’ll have more to worry about than mynocks.”

“I’ll take one.”

Pie turned to see a dark-haired man holding out a large hand in her direction. 

“Of course,” she passed him a spear.  “You must be one of the new crew.” She eyed his tall frame.  The space-bred black gang were typically medium to small in stature, this man did not look as if he sprang from any of the known spacer clans.  “From station _Shirzad_?”

The newcomer took the spear in both hands, feeling for the balance-point and nodding as he found it.  “Your Master Chief mentioned a tour?”

Pie chuckled, “Aye, you’ll get the tour all right, if y’want to start off by hunting mynock with us.”  She nodded at the spear.  “Have you used a vornspear before?” 

“No.” Ren touched the “wings” below the blades.  “I’ve had a little training with polearms, but none like this.  Why the ornamentation?”

“That’s to keep an angry vorn tiger, or in this case, a mynock too stupid to know its dead, from pushing up the blades and chewing on our faces,” said Pie.  

“Blade-stops,” Ren nodded.  “Very good.” He shifted his grip and made a slow pass with the spear, adjusting to accommodate the metal weighting one end. The air-drag on a metal-bladed weapon was different than that of a lightsaber. 

“Use both hands,” Pie advised, and once you get a hit, there’s a trigger in the haft here.  She indicated a small button in the handgrip.  “It sets off a brief stun-charge.  If you get good at it, you don’t even have to really stab ‘em much, just poke and zap.” She nodded at a spidery maintenance mech-droid waiting patiently nearby.  “The droids will pick up the mynocks as we knock them down.”

“And if you’re clumsy like me,” said Seyo, “Y’end up with the stupid thing impaled on the spear and flailing away like a bluefish.”  He shot his sleeves up to show several long scars across his forearms.  “They’ll cut you with their tails, so try to keep ‘em at spear’s length.”

“Aye, and they bite,” said Pie.  “Yarel was lucky the one she touched didn’t take off her fingers.” Pie pulled up a ship schematic holomap on her datapad, syncing it with the rest of her crewmates’ datapads, and assigning teams of two or three people to various sections of the ship’s internal structure.  Looking at Ren she said, “You’re with me, I can give you much of the new crew orientation as we work.  D’you mind heights?”  She pointed at an area near the ship’s main reactors.  “There’s a spot here that I think will have some nests, but it’s pretty vertical.”  She looked a question at Seyo, who shook his head emphatically. 

“Nope, I’ll help Jon’s team, those long climbs make me wobbly.” He lowered his voice.  “Actually it’s not the height, it’s the depth underneath, if y’take my meaning.” 

“Heights are fine.”  Ren followed the lead of those carrying spears and slung it over his shoulders by its carry-strap.

“Good.”  Pie nodded.  “Everyone ready?  Start from here and work aft.  Once you get your zone cleared, update the status and move on.  If you get to the end of your zone and still have time, help your mates.  Send any wounded back to the med center here at the Hub, escort them if necessary.” 

“Wounded?  They’re just mynocks,” said Ren.

“Mynocks that’ve been feasting on our power for as many as two tenday cycles.  The most-mature will be big, feisty, and almost ready to breed.  If we don’t stamp ‘em out now, we’ll never be rid of them.”  Turning and holding up her hands over her crew she said, “Let’s go now.  Good hunting to us all!”

With a murmur of assent, the group broke up, each team taking a different route into the interior workings of the ship. 

\---

 “What’s your name?”  Pie threw this query over her shoulder as she trotted along a broad conduit.  Every 20 feet or so she had to jump over ring-joins and bracing struts, so she kept her eyes forward.  A pair of mech-droids followed at a more decorous pace.  “I’m Pie Abd Mhacha, Chief of the first shift o’the black gang.”

He hadn’t thought of the need to come up with an alias.  _Ben Solo_ simply wouldn’t do.

“Kylo… I’m called Kylo.”

“Khalō?  That’s good.”  Pie’s accent shifted the phonemes, making his taken-name sound exotic. “Spacer or planet-bred?”

“Spacer.”  That was no great lie, at least, since he’d lived much of his current existence on starships or various space stations. 

“Not claustrophobic then.”  Pie stopped and searched around the base of a heavy support pylon then began to ascend the rungs of a built-in ladder.  She stopped to point upward into the gloom.  “We’re heading to a secondary level above the main reactors.  It’s a bit of a climb and a hike.”

“That’s fine.” Following Pie up the ladder, he kept glancing around at the enormous braids of feed-lines, power cables and bulky chunks of cryptic machinery that made up much of the interior space of the ship.  Ren could, if he wanted to push a little, feel the Finalizer’s regular crewers on the other side of the thick bulkheads, going about their daily routines unaware of the two them sequestered in this hidden nonlinear world, but he found the sensation disorienting and tuned it out.  “Do you ever get lost?” 

“Used to all the time.  I started my apprenticeship in the standard star destroyers, which seemed big enough to me at the time, but _Finalizer_ is at another scale entirely.”  Pie swung off the ladder onto another massive conduit and waited for him to join her.  “The datapads on our wrists contain the ship’s interior schematics – including homing-points for orientation, and we all have beacons in the datapads, just in case.  If you don’t have one already, we’ll get you set up.  In the past it was considered amusing for new crew to get lost, but these new ships are so huge its no joke.”  Their conduit branched and she chose the left fork, which had an obviously-marked footpath on its upper surface. 

“The children all have beacons in their clothing," she added.  They aren’t _supposed_ to leave the living areas until they are old enough to be apprenticed and learn the trades, but you know how kids are.”

“Children.  On a warship.  Why?”  Ren followed Pie along this newest trail, their course over the conduit broken by several more steep climbs. 

“Eh?  Why not?  They are the children of our clan, and born to be of the black gang.  Where else should they be?”

“On a planet, where it is… safe.”  Ren could sense Pie’s shudder of distaste.

“Planets aren’t safe.  They’re just huge, unsteerable spacecraft waiting to get hit by large impactors.  And all that open sky, just dreadful.” 

“There is a thing called gravity that keeps everyone on-planet,” said Ren drily.  “You will not fall into the sky.”

Pie chuckled as she found another access ladder.  “I like your sense o’humor.”  She pulled herself upward.  “Almost there.”  For a time she climbed in silence.  “I was born and raised on the old star destroyer _Chimera_.  I’m not used to having open space above me, nor is anyone in the black gang that comes from our clans.”

“So you do not… miss it?”  Sensing her confusion at the question, he added.  “Living on a planet?”

“I can’t miss what I don’t know, can I?” Pie stepped off the ladder onto a narrow ledge studded with great bolts, and indicated a massive, rounded object above their heads.  “This is the outer containment for the auxiliary reactor, the generators are a little way ahead.  The spaces around their compartments have the power cabling and that’s where I suspect a bunch of our mynocks are nesting.  While they can tolerate some radiation, they don’t live on it, so lucky for us they shouldn’t be clinging to the containment.  That means we don't have to worry about getting cooked.” 

She smiled a little.  “We may not have the same stuff as planets in here, like weather, but it can be an exciting life all the same.”  Her smile widened.  “It can get really exciting if we spook all those mynocks at once, let’s see if we can’t check the spaces real quiet-like to start.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kylo Ren is bored, which is probably never a good thing when your job is keeping the ship repaired and running.


End file.
